The Two Others
by aimsknight06
Summary: After Rachel's floor, there are two more obstacles before the ultimatum... Two more floor masters, OCs. Rated T for language and some questionable themes.
1. Chapter 1

Water trickles ever so steadily. The pitter patter, drip drop of the globules impacting the larger surface, making ripples… an absence of bubbles. In this dingy dark place where despair reeks, the holy man walks alone through the halls. Where his step treads is ever closer to that of icy terror, where the agony of others had frozen over many a time. An angel of death with a heart and domain as cold as ice… yes, that was her, this floor master.

The priest approached the metal door to the walk-in freezer. She'd requested a very difficult challenge for the designers. Nothing so convoluted as Cathy's, but complex all the same. It had to have the feel of a butcher, an altar, and a place of cleansing, all in one. What a demanding child.

The priest smirks slightly to himself. Children and their innocence. That is why she was such an able killer, bringer of peaceful death. His hand goes to enter the keypad code. There is a hiss of cold air before the door opens a crack.

It's a winter horror land in there. Hooks from the ceiling dangled frozen corpses, mangled from maceration in water. Many eyes are frozen solid, still open. She liked it that way. The floor, walls, and sparse crates had a coating of frost from the low temperature this girl kept running all the time. The priest kept a steady gait so as not to slip as he progressed. His breath made those vapors that occurred on frosty days, where it hung and wafted a bit like a cloud.

Taking a few turns past cold storage boxes, he walks up to an area where the ice seems to thaw and reveal machinery underneath. By this time, a petite girl, with pale purple hair and sickly complexion, had already made her way to his side without noise. He knew she was there, in her little arctic jacket and boots, holding a fishbowl stuffed with snow, as usual. Her tired looking grey eyes look up to him expectantly.

"Kirsten." His blank eyes barely moved.

"Holy father."

"The witch will be coming soon. And she will be with Zack. They have just dispatched of Danny for the second time on her floor."

"… Rachel … Gardner…" The one called Kirsten blinks slowly, with contemplation, "One whose insides are so cold… they require warmth…"

"I leave them to you, Kirsten. They are nearly in the outside world here."

"Zack… now _he_ is a burning spirit… to be trapped and frozen forever…" The little girl sighs a little dully, rubbing her face on her fishbowl. She seems consumed in her own thoughts. "I will make this a pleasant stay for them, as I do every customer."

The priest nods and walks ahead, towards the elevator to the upper floor. As the doors open for him to enter and close, he takes one last look out before the metal claps shut. The contraption starts elevating him. Kirsten, another angel of death. She wasn't like Danny, angel of cold death, Raphael's image. Nor was she Cathy, angel of punishing death, Uriel's image. And she lacked the kindness of Eddy, angel of just death, Michael's image. She was perhaps closest to Zack, a true angel of death, Samael's image. He didn't even want to think of that witch, Rachel… She was clearly Lucifer, fallen angel of luring death. Kirsten did have that quality about herself as well, however… wanting to preserve things. She was, yes, angel of beautiful death, Gabriel.

The old man smiles a bit as the elevator slows near his destination floor. His son, the angel Azazel, stands behind the grates before they pry open. He smiles at him.

His angels were perfect.

* * *

Her dull eyes were grey held that look of a tired old woman. One tired with life. She had only the slightest hint of an amused smile when she watched things happen. Things like liquid nitrogen freezing a prisoner's face off, or frostbite cost a person all their fingers and toes. The thought of these two new guests coming for their final night did not amuse her so much at first. After all, she knew they were floor masters, and she did not like Rachel at all.

"Punishment for a witch, worshipper of the devil… Even after we permitted you in the house, you betrayed us by clipping our wings. It's to the 9th circle with you then…"

Kirsten watched with a neutral stare at an old-fashioned monitor that displayed the two making their way to her floor. Her snow filled fishbowl sat atop an anti-griddle by her desk. There were frozen specimens in vials lining her messy table, along with notes and formulas on subzero concoctions and human physiology. Her favorite was an old finger from a gentleman she'd drowned and preserved on ice. It had a paler tint and did not turn purple like many others.

So she didn't like Rachel… but what of Zack? Him with his cocky grin and unparalleled strength and tenacity. His body seemingly could only deal death, not receive it. It was his spirit, thought Kirsten. She knew when she'd first lain eyes on him. He was more like Eddie, who had a warmth within him when killing. Zack's desire was amplified to that of an inferno. Cathy was cold and maniacal. Danny was just cold. That made Zack the outlier. Kirsten knew she and Rachel were cold.

Eddie was dead though. Zack wasn't. Warmth had fallen to burning passion.

Thus, Kirsten decided to extinguish this flame. She'd observed when metal came out, white hot from the furnace. To make a blade, it was instantly plunged into freezing ice. She could forge that, a new experience she'd been pining for. All her usual victims were so lackluster, so lifeless. They often were reduced to blubbering tears too quickly, merely begging for their lives. They cooled too quick or had nothing to begin with.

But Zack, as she'd observed from the other floor master defeats… he was not one to be cooled. He was always blazing, even when death seemed imminent, or victory out of reach. No matter what, he did not seem to stop burning. Such a flame could not possibly exist. She would extinguish it, and hopefully, get some new amusement out of it.

As for Rachel, she did not care how she died.

* * *

"Haah? What the hell is this? 'Half Floor?!' Bullshit!"

Zack kicked the wall hard after the elevator stopped. Rachel had only just read the words 'Half Floor' printed on the walls.

"Can't believe this! This escape's takin' forever!"

"Zack… we should keep going…"

The dull eyed girl points onwards, where the complexes arrows seem to lead. The lights overhead in the hallway flicker ominously. Like Danny's floor, however, it isn't dirty or reeking of death like Cathy's.

"If we find the floor master… then we can get out."

"Fuck yeah, hate these guys anyway…"

"Do you know who it might be, Zack…"

"No. I don't remember any of these people. Always stayed on my own floor. I told ya this."

"Oh, right…" Rachel looked down at her shoes before walking down the hall, "The priest…might be here then…"

Almost immediately, Zack bumps his face while walking. He rubs his nose in irritation and looks at what looks like nothing he walked into.

"The fuck?!"

"Ah…" Rachel walks up and touches the hallway that Zack seemingly walked into, "It's glass I think."

"Oh yeah?! You think a little glass is gonna stop us?!" The maniac draws his scythe back and swings it hard at the surface of the barrier.

There is a dull bong sound. The barrier does not even seem to vibrate, but his scythe whines.

"The hell! How're we supposed to get anywhere?!"

Rachel puts a pensive finger to her lip, "Maybe there is a specific point we can strike?"

Zack hits the barrier over and over again. After maybe the 100th hit within the half hour they stood there, he started getting just slightly winded. As he panted a little, his breath fogged up the glass a bit, revealing some kind of smudging.

"…!" Rachel's perceptive eyes don't miss it, "Zack wait!"

"Huh?" He pauses, catching his breath.

The girl walks up to the glass and breathes on it, fogging it up further. The smudges look random at first glance, but as she reveals more, it seems to resemble something. She pauses, her little breaths having had minimal impact.

"Zack, breathe on the glass with me."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because, I think there's something on this glass. See?" She breathes on the glass and points at the fading smudges.

Zack doesn't seem completely bought. But he seems to remember the durability against his strength and how it turned out. So he breathes on the glass too.

After a few minutes, the two managed to reveal some hand prints and what looks to be a small poem:

"_When you see yourself burned, do you recognize it?_

_If you saw your own reflection, would you question it?_

_This world is given with those who know their purpose,_

_And those are the Angels."_

Rachel reads it and mutters it softly. Usually these were always some kind of clue. She relays it to Zack. It doesn't matter, because all he does is act annoyed at another riddle.

"Reflection…" Rachel mouths the words over and over again. "This glass has no reflection…"

"Then it's useless!"

"No… we just have to find something else with a reflection…" Rachel looks around as the idea forms.

Her eyes land on the wall to their right. It looked polished. They were both reflected in it.

"Zack." Rachel points at the reflection. "There."

Without another word Zack rushes at the wall with his scythe. There is a loud crushing sound as his scythe dented the seemingly thin sheet of metal masquerading as a wall. After a few more hits, he pounds the thing down enough for them to go and see inside. It's a dark hallway, with a door of light on the left far down. Zack walks ahead with a grunt. Rachel follows wordlessly.

A voice emanates from some speakers embedded in the walls. It's the voice of a young girl, maybe Rachel's age, except even more lethargic, if that was possible.

"Welcome to the 9th Circle of Hell… I hope you enjoy your stay…"

"Tsh… freak." Zack scowls as they near the door with light.

"Who is it, Zack…"

"Hell if I remember that bitch… 'Nother floor master…"

"Ah, so another female floor master…"

"Tche."

Past the door of light, they see what looks to be a nearly white room at first. Then the mist clears and reveals it to be one of ice and frost. Clusters of frozen crystals layer the walls and what appear to be boxes. Their breath makes steam in this place. The door behind shuts immediately.

Zack gives a slight unimpressed huff, "Oi, you won't die of a cold, will ya?"

Rachel shivered slightly. She was certainly not dressed for this kind of excursion. Yet she nodded anyway.

As they walked further into the room, Rachel took care glancing at the boxes. They seemed to be metal reinforced glass of some kind, covered in a thin layer of frost. Despite her freezing state, she clears away some of the frost with her hand. The cold stung her skin.

A dead face stairs back at her. It seems to be male. The eyes are bulging, a perfect expression of terror. Gas bubbles trapped with him mean that he was submerged when frozen.

Zack called from the back of the room, having passed by the boxes with no care, "Hey, c'mon. There's a door."

Rachel nods and approaches with him. On the metal door is accumulated frost that nearly conceals a sign on it, which Rachel reads aloud:

"If a witch is innocent, she will sink."

"What's it mean?" Without waiting for an answer, Zack pries at the door handle and strains against it.

"A witch… I think it refers to me."

"Huh? The fuck does that mean?"

"... Never mind."

With a creak and crack, the residual ice on the door frame crumbles and the heavy thing opens. Inside is a smaller room, and another door on the other side. The two of them step in, and the door behind slides shut suddenly. A screen on the upper corner of the room lights up just as a hissing sound ensues. A girl, young like Rachel, with purple hair and bored eyes, looks from the screen.

"Attention guests, we are running a drill…"

"Haah? The fuck is this?"

"In the event of a cold, please try not to sleep… because you don't know when you will wake up frozen."

The hissing sound. Rachel smells something odd in the air, and her eyelids grow heavy. A sudden wave of sleepy weakness surprises her, and she drops to her knees on the cold metal floor. These odd fumes… were also hard to breathe in.

"Sleeping… gas… …?"

"Take care staying awake too long… that somniferous will settle in your lungs and suffocate you…"

That droning, uncaring voice did not make it easier to stay away. Zack, with a frenzy, tries smashing either door with his scythe, to little effect. They were heavily reinforced.

"Damn it!"

"You're so defiant Zack… even in the blizzard, you are the one flame that-"

"Shut up and let us out!" He coughs and covers his mouth. While he could not die of physical wounds, or so he believed, this was a different matter.

Rachel feels her vision getting fuzzy as it got harder and harder to breathe. Eventually, she surrenders and keels over. Zack, a fighter to the end, goes as far as to smash the screen in his attempts to destroy the room, before succumbing himself.


	2. Chapter 2

There was air moving over his ugly, riddled skin. The skin was burned so long ago that it had lost its sensitivity. But he still preferred being covered. Why… Why was he exposed?

He moans slightly, head swimming from the drugged gas. His moans are muffled. Something is pressed against his mouth, between his jaw, preventing him from speaking. His arms feel restrained, this time behind his back. His feet as well. His eyes could open, if only they didn't feel so damn heavy…

He eventually comes to consciousness. His hoodie is gone. A ball gag is tied in his mouth, secured behind his head. His hands are secured from behind on a chair that is bolted it seems before a secured table. His legs are tied to the chair legs. What he was feeling was the cold on his exposed skin. All the bandages on his chest and torso had been removed, showing the red, withered looking skin that never healed right. Stuck on his chest were these weird wires. He didn't know, but they were electrodes and EKGs. They connect to two machines on the other side of the table.

He struggles against his bonds first, looking around rapidly. This is not a large room. There is a single door, as well as a monitor screen. It is brightly lit with sickly white light that flickers slightly in intervals. After a few minutes struggling with the leather grappling his limbs, he makes some progress and feels the bonds loosen, but not enough.

The door swings open and the little girl with purple hair steps in. He hadn't bothered trying to recall her name. She was about the size of Rachel.

"Rrn-arnnnnhgh!"

He grunts incoherently with that ball in his mouth, straining to get at her. She merely calmly walks over and takes the seat opposite from him. She places her fishbowl of snow on the table beside her.

"Hello Zack."

She is unfazed by the rabid man's incoherent, raving-eyed response.

"Do you remember me? I'm Kirsten…"

"Nrr-rraagh!"

"Isn't this nice? You should be a bit less unruly though… But that's like asking you to not breathe isn't it?"

The fuck is she talking about? Zack was getting annoyed. She was so… calm. Her eyes were cold, like Rachel's, actually.

"I'm sure you're curious about where the girl is. I've left her to her own devices for now. I quite frankly don't care about how she lives or dies… my target is _you_…"

She taps a button on the machine beside her side of the table. It beeps and there is a slight low hum for a second.

Then Zack felt that familiar feeling. When he was in the electric chair back on that bitch Cathy's floor. That burning feeing. Instead of being on his head however, this time it was concentrated on those patches on his exposed skin. It was like he was getting fried, inside and out from his torso. His body jerks in uncontrolled spasms, chafing against their bonds. He screams in futility through his gag, and his eyes bug out. His heart felt like it would explode from beating so much as his chest heaved sporadically in agonized, quickened rhythm.

"MNNNNRRRGGHHHH!"

A sadistic grin forms slowly, like a small smile really, on Kirsten's face. She turns a dial down and eventually the shocks cease. The EKG machine, which was beeping with rigor, still shows irregularity in Zack's heartbeat.

Breathing heavily through his nostrils, Zack trembles in his prison chair. The residual shocks made his arms still twitch as he glares murderously at the girl across the table. He coughs and some blood dribbles from his nose onto his lap as he slumps over. Kill her…Fucking kill her….

"Electricity is quite funny… I always imagined lightning was made of ice, because of its color. But then, when it strikes someone dead, it does it more like fire. Both fire and ice do feel like burning in the end though, I suppose…"

Her hand on the dial moves. Another jolt of energy runs through him like savage fire. His body arcs against his will and the muscles stiffen, jerking from the continuous stream of electrons frying his nerves. His muffled screams resound in the room, but Kirsten seems hardly bothered by their volume as she toys with the voltage. The monitor is now absolutely haywire as the man's heart is kicked into a frenzied overdrive from pain.

The screen behind her lights up, showing Rachel waking up in what looks to be an icebox room. Kirsten taps her fishbowl after giving an uncaring glance. She turns down the dial. Zack slumps in his seat, twitching and breathing heavily in snorts through his nose. He barely looks up at first.

"Oh, she didn't die of frost yet… Did you know most people would just sleep there and die?"

She looks impassively from the corner of her eye at the blond slowly gather her bearings in the frosted room. Zack stares fiercely at the screen before struggling against the ties again. What a fighter.

"I suppose this is more fun for us to watch, right Zack?"

…

Rachel awoke in that small room next to cardboard boxes frozen shut. It had been the cold, both calling her to waking, and yet coaxing her into sleep. Her immediate thought had been Zack, who is nowhere to be found.

She looks around and sees a good deal of these boxes, some with dried blood. Likely these were filled with the same sorry saps that were frozen to death. A heavy-duty metal door with a key pad is the only way out of the room she sees.

She tries the door first. Locked. The metal was so cold it hurt to hold.

As her breath made immense fog, she looked about, moving conservatively. There is a camera up in a corner of the ceiling. The floor master is watching. Rachel inspects the boxes. They are all marked fragile. All except one lack codes of any kind.

The one that had a code was not very different in appearance. However, the frosted cardboard had something scratched on, perhaps in blood from a previous prisoner.

"ICE"

It wasn't in numbers. But Rachel got the hint quick enough. There is no number that actually looks like a mirrored C. The closest would be 9. She goes back to the keypad and enters "391."

There is a click and a rush of air as the door unlocks. She hurriedly opens it and feels a rise in the temperature, much to her relief.

This next room has narrow walkways across large pools of water. The water is greenish, like a chlorinated pool. From the ceiling are mechanisms of chains, pulleys and hooks. Some had rusty looking lockers hanging, large enough for a person. At the end of the room are four doors, with two in front and one on each side. A single, large, black screen is set between the two doors in front.

Rachel walks towards the doors. As she passes the pools, she sees some of the pools have forms submerged in them. Some of the pools have disgusting, macerated matter floating on the surface, looking to be human fat and flesh. These must be bodies in there.

When she gets near the end of the room, the screen flickers on, showing the purple-haired floor master. She looks straight at Rachel with unamused eyes.

"Are we enjoying our stay…? Congratulations for getting out of the icebox…"

Rachel was not sure if the other end could hear her, but she speaks anyway.

"Where is Zack?"

The floor master moves out of the way to show the gagged and restrained man, seemingly motionlessly slumped forward in a chair. The ends of his hair seem slightly fried. Rachel's eyes widen.

"He is still alive … Not even arrhythmia…" A small smile creeps onto the other girl's face, "Amusing…"

"Zack!" Rachel calls out to him, but her face shows only the slightest of concern.

"You will both end up in the same place… so don't say goodbye."

Without letting her respond, the feed cuts off. Rachel looks off at the four doorways with some urgency now. They are all marked, from 1 to 4.

She takes a shot in the dark and goes for 3.

Past a short, dim hallway is essentially a walk-in freezer. Rachel this time moves one of the boxes to keep the door open while she looked around after entering. There are human bodies hanging like hams from racks strung on the ceiling. Some are naked while others wear pajamas. Some are hung by the ankles and others by hooks under their pits. The ones hung right side up seem like they fell asleep. The ones hung upside down look like they were in the middle of screaming as they died. All have frost and cold, blue skin. But Rachel didn't care. There doesn't seem to be much of use here, save a sledgehammer.

The wall seems odd on one side of the room, being slightly reflective. Picking up the sledge hammer, Rachel slams it on the wall, making a big dent in the metal and cracking whatever ice accumulated. There is the sound of something hissing, and then a large _BOOM_ that makes her totter a bit. It sounded like an explosion nearby, but not here. She sees the dent she made has ballooned back onto her side. A gas explosion maybe.

She goes around testing the rest of the room's walls now. One other one sounds a bit hollow. When she smashes that one, it crumples to reveal a chute of some sort, with a rather bad smell. This is probably where the bodies are dumped then.

Or was it?

There doesn't seem to be a need to dump bodies, given the whole freezing and brining thing going on. And if it has such a putrid scent, it must be warm enough down there for decomposition to happen. All signs point to some sort of red herring trap. To test it, Rachel takes town one of the bodies and shoves it down the dark tube.

There is no sound of grinding, but she instead hears just a dull thud. Throwing in the hammer, she vaults into the chute after. Despite the odor, the chute is actually quite clean. At the end, she is dropped atop the corpse she had used, alongside the hammer.

This new room she is in seems to be the source of the fetid odor, as two bodies in late stages of decomposition float in a large tank. They have rotted for a time now, she can see. The remains of what must have been their ankle chained to the tank bottom broke off, allowing the bodies to float as they deteriorated. There are at least no flies in here.

The room is illuminated by a single bar of lighting with no windows and a single door. She hears a distant shout that rattles her. It's Zack. He must be near.

The door has a simple knob. With a swing, she smashes it. The door creaks open. The room beyond the doorway flickers with a series of lightbulbs leading to a single door on the right side of the long pathway. On the sides of the long room seem to be many beds with eerie silhouettes in the flickering light. Dragging the hammer, Rachel walks along, under the light. As she does, whatever is in the beds seem to quiver and a low cackling arises around in the darkness. But she walks on, seemingly unfazed.

…

When Zack regained consciousness after passing out intermittently, spots form in his vision and vanish, like annoying blinks. He can see the girl across the table, seemingly doodling on paper. She doesn't seem to have noticed him awake just yet. His eye trails to the screen, which shows Rachel moving about still. How long had he been out? How many shocks was that by now?

Rachel seems to be in a place that is yet again cold, from the puffs of steam issuing from her lips. But she doesn't seem to be freezing like in the first room.

Kirsten gives a bored yawn and stretches, "Hnn... Room number 3, eh..."

So she's on her way? Wait, what room are they in, even? It probably isn't even connected back to where Rachel is. In that case, there's no point in counting on her to come.

The floor master looks to her captive now.

"Oh, good you're awake. I suppose even something that doesn't break still has limits... you were actually out of it this time, weren't you..."

He gives her a silent, murderous glare.

She gets up and walks over to his side of the table after scooping some snow out of her fishbowl. Zack can see something like a human head maybe buried in there. The bit she dug out exposes a bloodshot eye and a cold, blue-skinned scalp.

"Are you thirsty?"

When he doesn't respond, she moves to undo the gag's clasp from behind. He spits the thing out and growls.

"Damn bitch, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" He snarls and strains against his bonds.

She takes a step back, "Tut tut... don't you want some water?"

"GRAAAH!" More beast than man, he struggles like mad to break free, frothing like an animal.

Kirsten looks at him with slight disapproval before throwing the wad of snow at his face. He flinches slightly from the wet, melty cold at first, before resuming his aggressive act. She seems a bit turned off, and returns to her side of the table.

"A beast is no fun... is that your secret..." She mumbles to herself. Her hand lingers now for the dial of the electrifier.

"LIKE HELL IMMA LET YOU!"

With a sudden surge of strength, he grinds his feet to stand. There is a groan and snap of metal bolts as his inhuman strength actually tears the bolted chair legs off the ground. Kirsten's eyes widen at the spectacle, perhaps out of awe more than fear, even as he jumps over the table, bearing down on her with a crash.

"Ngh!" She yelps a bit as his large frame knocks her backwards off her seat, his knees going on her chest. Her padded coat luckily saves her from broken bones, but she isn't out of the woods yet.

"RAAH!" Zack lunges forward with his teeth as his weapons, as his limbs remain restrained. Like a wolf for the kill, he goes straight for the neck. He first gets a mouthful of the collar of the thick parka she wears. But he can feel the thin thing's neck under the layers.

Kirsten squeals a bit under him, fumbling in her pockets. She pulls out a long, needle-like gun apparatus. Before Zack can move, she jabs the syringe tip into his abdomen and pulls and holds the trigger. He felt the initial stab, but he relentlessly bites harder. Even as he feels something alien flood his system, he tries to hold on.

After a few long seconds of the struggle, Zack flops over, drool and froth leaking from his mouth. Kirsten coughs and sits up. She looks at the hypodermic syringe gun. She'd used up all the liquid. Panting slightly, she looks to Zack's listless body. Her face slowly twists into that of queer pleasure, a bit sweaty and red-faced from arousal.

"That was... amazing..."


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel sits down, setting her back against the corridor corner so she can see both of the coming ways. She had just passed the room full of those insanity patients. Where will this funhouse take her next?

Her mind constantly wandered back to that image of Zack restrained to that chair with that floor master. Think, think! Where were the doorways in and out of that room, if she could see any... But no matter how hard she thought, the image remains impregnable. There's nothing else to see in that image in her head. All she can do is hope this path will take her to him anyway. Even if it is a trap like with Cathy.

She exhales and grips the hammer as she leans forward on her knees drawn to her chest. The changes of cold and warmth made her sleepy, as well as the fact she never caught so much as a wink of sleep in this place when she wasn't knocked out. Her own floor left her mentally exhausted. Keeping a hold on the hammer, she closes her eyes, just for a few minutes...

…

No more air moving over his sensitive skin. He can feel his arms are numb as he regains a vague feeling in them. But his head is still a mess, swimming from whatever the hell she stabbed him with. He forces his eyes open, feeling the vertigo almost immediately. His vision remains a hodgepodge of images, unable to be put together. All he can see clearly is a lot of something large and bluish before he has to shut his eyes from the blurriness.

The gag is gone from his mouth. There's something like a mask over his face instead. Arms feel bound near his abdomen, and he's wearing something that is tying them together. A straitjacket?

Despite the weakness the drug induced in his limbs, he thrashes however he can. Something is holding him in suspension so he cannot move very well.

"Ah, Zack..."

He opens his eyes a crack to see the image of Kirsten wobbling to his left. Damn, he can't focus for shit. She's not with her fishbowl at the moment, instead just holding a switch of some kind.

"...A dosage that can put an elephant under for a day... and for you, it's only been a few hours... are you really human, Zack?" She looks at him with those dull eyes... and a queerly intrigued smile. It sickened him. She's like how Danny ogles after Rachel.

His vision slowly returns and Zack now clearly sees he is indeed in a straitjacket. The attire is chained with attachments that go up near the ceiling to a pulley system not unlike the ones used to haul meat in a slaughterhouse. But it has been modified to lower cargo. Beneath him is a large tank of bluish water. This mask on his face wraps around his head, with tubes leading out of it.

This room is larger than the last. Splatters of sickly reddish or yellow liquids stain the white floor; likely bodily fluid. Hooks attached to the pulley system dangle, unused. Some are rusted and others have bits of detritus still left over from the last victim. Zack couldn't care less to guess what goes on here.

"What the hell is this...?!" He growls under the mask. It garbles his words a bit but she has no trouble hearing.

"You are... a very dangerous person, Zack... No person can have as much fire as you do... But yet, it's the first time... I could ever feel satisfied..." She seems to blush lightly, closing her eyes and thinking, "That was amazing, the fight you put up... even after I had the syringe in you..."

Oh god, is she _getting off_ on this?

"Fucking crazy bitch..."

"That's why I want to properly extinguish you, Zack. This time, I will surely be even more satisfied...!" Kirsten pants slightly, wrapping her arms around herself, "This is the ultimate high! Never again will I find anyone like this!"

Her talking annoys him to no end. He growls and roars, swinging about like a suspended worm.

"I may be mad for saying this... but I am glad you betrayed us floor masters... Otherwise, I would never have this opportunity to punish you..." She looks up to him, face flushed still, with admiration. It was making him sick.

"What the fuck are you even talking about?! I ain't got nothin' like loyalty for any of ya!" Zack snarls, "I just kill! And that's what Imma' do t' you!"

"I know, Zack..." She giggles lowly, "That's why I want you to get used to the cold first..."

There is a click. She pressed the switch. Suddenly, the chains suspending him in the air slacken and he feels himself falling, and the water tank rush up to meet him.

SPLASH

His vision is obscured by millions of bubbles accommodating his plunge into the cold liquid. He can feel himself sinking, bound in a way that he cannot swim. He feels the sudden restriction on his breathing, as now the mask is his only lifeline. Luckily, it is fitted on snugly so no water seeps in. The bubbles slowly rise away and he sees he is now completely submerged in the tank. A thin stream of bubbles from the side of the mask, with the tubes running into it supplying him with oxygen. Outside the blue vat's glass wall, Kirsten walks into view, smiling.

"I bet it's nice and cool in there, right? Don't you want to stay forever?"

…

_I'm nobody's god. _

_Rachel felt relief after they had killed Danny again. Zack was not her god. But he would kill her anyway, once this was all over. There was an assurance in this man, who lived only to kill. He did not ask anything of her like Danny did._

_But when she turned to face her angel of death, she saw instead that helpless form of him. Tied to a chair in that room at that woman's mercy. Rachel reaches quickly for her gun, only to find her bag gone. That woman presses a button in her hands. Rachel hears Zack's muffled screams and sees his body writhe in pain._

_Her angel mustn't die._

_She takes a brave step forward. Her eyes widen as she sees Zack's body balloon up._

_And then POP._

_Viscera and gore splatters on her and the other floor master. She has Zack all over her._

Rachel bites back a gasp as she wakes from that unpleasant nightmare. There is no indication of time to tell how long she had rested. From how she felt, she gathers it was not long, as she still felt tired. But she was no longer in any mood to sleep after that kind of dream. Dragging herself to stand, she starts to walk again, down the corridor.

This place has a rather pristine feel, much like an asylum. At the end of the corridor is an elevator, and on the side is a small door, which opens to a stairwell. The elevator seems to be the same core one that goes through the floors. But this one is out of order, as it is all boarded up. They also didn't see this floor on their way here. There are hidden floors here then, sandwiched between the main stops.

Before going up the stairs, Rachel looks at the wall opposite the stairwell door. She had heard Zack's shout from somewhere on this floor here. Tracing the schematic of the floor so far...

Gripping the sledgehammer, she slams it on the wall. There is not a hollow sound, but the greenish paint coating breaks easily, showing cracked plaster. The force travels up her arm a bit, but she does not stop, now going for a second and third hit. If the image in her head is right, either there is enough room on this floor for another space, or this is just a massive support column.

After around the eighth smash, her arms tingle and about an inch of the plaster is worn through. There is something covering the other end, but there appears to be light there. With the handle of the hammer, she pokes at it. There is the sound of paper ripping. She peers through.

It is a rather small hole. From what she can gather, it appears to be an empty room on the other side. The walls are all covered within what seems to be papers, too small and far away to read. But what is legible is a big statement made of what looks like red paint slathered across the leaves of paper. It is one simple word written:

TRAITORS

Rachel looks about the rest of the room. On the floor, there is only one singular object, which appears to be a black box. Zack is nowhere to be seen.

"So..."

The box fizzles to life. It's some sort of walkie talkie.

"You found the secret room... but Zack is nowhere to be found."

"...Where is Zack," Rachel speaks as clear as she can into the hole.

"It is your job to find him. Or will you betray him again?"

"I didn't betray him..."

"You pointed your gun at him on your own floor. You betrayed him," The other girl's voice is steady and cold, "This is where traitors are punished."

"Then why are you hurting him?"

"I'm not. He's pleasuring me."

"I want to hear him." Even if it was just going to be another horrible scream.

"No."

The other side curtly cuts off as the device fizzles before Rachel can make another plea. She doesn't linger and quickly goes to ascend the stairwell. A frostiness settles again. She must be going back up to the main floor after having slid down the pipe into this intermediary level.

Rachel did not think much on the floor master's words as she climbed the steps. Whatever pleasure she was talking about did not matter to her in the slightest. What she did realize was how similar the voice sounded to hers in tone. She had never taken much thought into what she sounded like before.

The stairs promptly stop before a wall with a fogged sheen on a landing. When Rachel approaches, she sees only a vague blob shape. It's not reflective, as it does not move with her. She taps the surface tentatively and feels it to be glass from the sound. With her hammer, she smashes at the glass wall. Fractures show almost immediately but it holds fast until about the third swing.

Like a broken fishbowl, water surges forth from the breached wall. It is greenish and chlorinated. Rachel holds tight to the railing of the landing so she is not swept away by the deluge. The blob she saw vaguely, a rotten body, floats past her and down the stairs as the water flows out. There is a stench now, of chemicals and worn flesh. Rachel walks forth to look into the room that held the water. She sees it is the bottom of one of the pools she had passed earlier. On the side is a ladder built in to the wall, leading back up to the walkway. Rachel sighs and steps into the drained pool, climbing up and out onto the path she had walked hours ago. The screen at the end of the hall with the four doorways is on. Rachel approaches the screen and her eyes widen at the broadcast.

The floor master stands before what seems to be a large tank of liquid, with Zack suspended inside. He is restrained by numerous bondages and a mask that is streaming with bubbles on the side. She cannot see if he is conscious.

"Zack!"

"Zack, do you see her?" The floor master looks to the captive. There is movement from Zack, but it is very minimal, given his constraints. His eyes cannot be seen.

"I don't understand what you're doing... If you're punishing me, why are you hurting Zack..." There is the slightest pleading tone in her otherwise dead voice.

"It's keeping you trapped here, isn't it?" The other girl looks impassively into Rachel's eyes, which are also as placid and unfeeling, "The 9th circle... is where traitors are frozen in their tracks forever within a great lake of ice."

"Let Zack go."

"He needs to be properly preserved... even angels can be traitors."

"Let him go!" Her voice grows a bit in volume.

"Don't worry. I plan to extinguish him soon. He was a bit rough, so I had to restrain him..." The floor master blinks a bit in slight surprise at something, "Oh... and my name is Kirsten."

Rachel had not even thought about the name of this person trying to murder them.

Kirsten continues in that dull voice, rambling in boredom, "It's not good manners towards the guests if the host does not introduce themselves..."

"... I don't think it's good manners for the host to drown guests either."

"This is Hell, where it is," Kirsten shrugs slightly before waving with a remote in hand at the screen, "Now, bye..."

The feed cuts. Rachel is left in the quiet that remained from before. There is only a light splashing in the near still pools that interrupt the silence. When bodies decompose in water, their air components cause the body to float and emit bubbles.

Without another word, Rachel goes for door 1.

"I'm not a traitor..."


	4. Chapter 4

The odd little girl was never one to blink. It was as if her eyes were frozen open from a young age. Her eyes disturbed the other children, so they avoided her for it. Her manners were odd as well, much like an old soul in a young body. As they grew up, discomfort turned into annoyance. Annoyance became anger. They pushed her into the outhouse shed by the old manor whilst it was snowing. They piled snow against the door so she wouldn't be able to open it.

When the adults came to look for her, she had broken out and spent the night in the old manor. They found her curled up before an empty fireplace. The old man who lived there died overnight, and she was holding onto his body though it held no warmth.

Her parents had not thought anything odd about her returning to them, and she said nothing but what assuaged their fears. She had not lost any fingers or toes to frostbite, though she was near frozen purple.

But she still loved the cold and winter. Summer was too hot, and she burned easily. Spring made it hard to breathe. The only thing good about fall was that it meant winter was coming. When she learned about that horrible thing called climate change that would warm the earth, she screamed all the way to the nurse's office.

The pastor was passing by on his religious tour through the town when he heard of the drownings that happened. They were curious events, unlike what one expects from the normal river stories. The bodies were not macerated by the water. They were, to a degree, partially frozen so they did not fully rot. The town was on edge as a result.

After one of his sermons, she approached him.

"Oh holy father…" She seemed like a pure child before him, "I have to confess…."

He saw that she was holding an ugly, misshapen stuffed bear. It was likely homemade. She was holding it tightly to herself with both arms.

"What burdens you, child?" His blank eyes betray nothing. He had his suspicions.

"I delight in seeing the cold. And I pleasure myself in seeing its power," Her lifeless eyes look up to him, "I am guilty of this envy for beauty in my heart."

"We are all imperfect. This world is but an imperfect shell. It will one day be made whole and perfect by the work of the angels."

"Angels?"

"Yes, the angels. They are beautiful and perfect creatures in what they do and their perfection spreads in their deeds… life and death," He tilts his head slightly as he looks down, smiling, "They will be the ones to save this world."

She hadn't been expecting his words. Her eyes, lifeless still, widened at his speech. She was buying into it slowly, this answer from nowhere. It was filling her slowly with a beautiful vision.

"Tell me, child, would you like to see it? The beauty which surpasses any other?"

"… I've made many 'pictures' before. Each more beautiful than the last…" The girl breathes, "How beautiful will this be?"

"You will make many more pictures, and they will all be beautiful. But the final image will be the most beautiful thing you will ever see, and everyone will know… because you are an angel, Kirsten."

He almost made her drop her hidden knife. "An angel?"

"Yes."

It took her a moment to realize, "Father, how do you know my name?"

"I have been looking for angels like you, Kirsten. I have been searching far and wide, high and low for you…"

"Angels of Death."

…

The water was not particularly cold, but he was losing feeling in his body nonetheless. How long had this bitch been having her way with him? Far too fucking long. How long was Rachel going to be taking her sweet time? This is the real torture. Torture of waiting. It was completely mind numbing. It wasn't anything like when he stalked as he hunted. Was this how his victims felt with their lives at his mercy? Good grief, the next kill he made would be quick but still painful.

This made him think of those times back at that awful place. With those two godawful assholes of caretakers. They did sometimes drown him in a half-assed way as punishment. The man would shove his head in the sink. Sometimes the woman would do it to him as she scrubbed him down in the bath. She held him under to clean his hair and whatnot.

Come to think of it, _he_ tried to kill him that way too. Some time before he burned him that day. Only, he did it with a bucket.

Of all the ways Zack ran into death, he hated drowning. It was possibly one of the worst ones. You didn't die quickly in a way you could see. Your screams weren't heard. All your body did was those ugly motions while spasming for oxygen. You wouldn't see anything worth seeing in the end. And then you black out. Dead. What a boring way to die. What a boring way to kill.

He remembered that first time. Without a chance to resist, he felt a hand grab his head and shove it into the plastic bucket filled with water. First he felt was that sensation much like this one, plunging into cold liquid. When he gasped, he only got water. So he fought. The grip was strong, and his push didn't quite cut it. His thrashing spilled a lot of water and he could hear the asshole cursing at him to hold still. He swallowed more water. The water level in the bucket was down past his ears at this point.

The doorbell rang and the guy got bored. He left Zack there on the floor while he went to go greet the mother with his cigarette-breath kisses. Zack coughed and shivered as he lay there. His mother yells at her lover for the mess.

One time he did actually black out. It was during one of the bath times. He had kicked her when she reached to submerge him. She got angry and grabbed the metal wash pan to press down on him, pushing him into the water. He pushed back at that weight on his chest amid the flurry of thoughts and bubbles. The bitch was putting her body weight on that. Of course he couldn't get free.

His lungs were screaming. He was screaming. He couldn't hear it though. He wasn't even sure his legs were still kicking, and his arms pushing. He wasn't sure how long that lasted. It sucks when you black out. You don't even know you fucking died.

The next thing he knew, he wasn't seeing much of anything, but he could feel the cold moving across his skin. Everything fucking hurt. When he opened his eyes, he was half buried in dirt. The caretaker with the shovel seemed surprised as hell to see him. So surprised that he smacked him with the shovel almost.

Yeah, that was it. Goddammit, he sure as hell wasn't going down that same way again…

"Zack?"

He didn't remember having closed his eyes. Next thing he knew, a small jolt made him twitch and wake up. The cold feeling never left him. His vision refocuses on the bitch keeping him in here.

"Ah, did you fall unconscious for a moment?" She smiles anemically, "Yes, it does get rather difficult to breathe, doesn't it…"

He glowers at her. She was right. There is a heaviness in breathing, and a cloud in his head. All he does is mutter a string of crass curses at her. Not that she could hear.

"Rachel is on her way here… I'll make sure to greet her in your stead, Zack."

…

"You…"

Rachel stares impassively at that familiar figure in the hallway. She wasn't surprised anymore at his mobility between the floors. The blind priest stares back at her intently with that complacent look of his, a slight smile on his lips.

"You're on your way to save Zack."

"Yes," She briskly moves to close the distance between them, "You're not needed here."

"Gabriel is one of the strongest angels. In such a way that it was thought that angel might have usurped god."

Rachel does not answer as she goes to pass him.

"But instead it was Lucifer. Instead it was you."

She pauses. They both stand side by side in the hallway. She still doesn't say a word.

"She is very much like you, Ray. At some point, she nearly lost her faith and had to be rehabilitated."

Rachel remembers that room with the beds. And that small room with no doors.

"So you put her there."

"Yes. Like how Danny had you relocated to his office."

"… I have my faith," She says as she resumes walking, dragging the sledgehammer.

"She found new faith in punishing traitors and taking them to the subzero hell they deserve. But what of your faith, witch?" He spat that last part out almost, "Do you really think you can save Zack?"

"I don't need to tell you… you wouldn't understand anyway," She comes to the end of the hallway. There is the vague outline of a concealed wall. With a swing, she dents it.

The priest watches silently as she breaks open the door. The hinge falls away to let out a small blast of chilled air. It opens to a hallway going to the left and right, with a familiar door across.

"To the left is the elevator to the next level. Ahead is the small room where you were first taken. The right is where your judgment awaits," The priest says casually, eyes on her small figure, "Answer me my query, witch. Dost thou think thine efforts can save anyone?"

Rachel takes a slight breather from the swinging and steps into the hallway. She turns and is about to go to the right. She gives the priest a sideways glance of boredom as she does so.

"God told me that Zack will definitely kill me. Even if Zack isn't my god. That is all I need for my faith."

And she walks from his sight. He stands for a few long moments, perhaps digesting her words. They were meaningless to him… or so he had initially thought they would be. With a slight smile, he goes to the elevator.

…

Around the bed, there was another door. Hanging by it is her bag. Rachel looks inside. Her sewing kit and gun are still there. There is one bullet left in the firearm chamber. She slings the bag over her shoulder and goes to try the door. It opens. There is the strong scent of chlorine. It's almost as bad as that fetid pool.

Before opening it all the way, she keeps her gun in hand. Then she steps into the chlorinated air. It's like a pool smell. The room is white tiled like an indoor pool as well. There are splatters of blood and other bodily fluids staining the white, and gruesome looking chains and hooks line the ceiling. There is a series of cameras in the corners of the ceiling, all fixated on that one large tank in the middle of the room. Amid the liquid inside, she sees the familiar head of black hair.

"Zack!"

Before she can run for him, a brute shove, almost like a smash, sends her rolling to the side. The door had crashed into her. It closes. Behind it was Kirsten. Rachel sits up and realizes her gun was knocked a few feet further. She keeps her eyes on the other as she pulls out a gun as well.

"You're finally here, Rachel…" Her voice really is a bit of a drawl. She would rather not deal with Lucifer.

"…Let Zack go."

The two of them engage in the dullest of staring contests. Kirsten raises her other hand. She is holding some kind of remote.

"Father Gray… I think I have found what is most beautiful…"

She presses something on it.

"The last thing his flame shall see before it dampens will be the traitor's death."

A tube snaps off from the mask amid a flurry of bubbles. Zack suddenly feels water flood his nose and mouth.

The damn bitch cut off the oxygen?!

From outside the tank, Rachel sees the submerged figure writhe in vain like a worm on a hook. Then there is some clanking sounds from the chains holding him in suspension. They release the man in the straitjacket, leaving him to sink slowly to the tank bottom, squirming.

"Come on then!"

Rachel feels a brute knock at her jaw as Kirsten kicks her while her attention was averted. Her eyes were glued to Zack, thrashing in the water like a fish would on land.

"What … did you do?" She darts onto her feet and avoids the butt of Kirsten's gun, skirting back a little. The gun is nearly in reach.

"One of the reasons recently for his radiance is you, traitor… he doesn't know what you did to taint him," Kirsten stares back with a cold deathly look, "When he sees you die… it will be the ultimate betrayal."

She shoots. But not at her head.

Rachel feels the pain in her leg. She lets out a small noise before falling to her knees. It was a graze along her shin, thankfully. Again, she looks to Zack in the tank.

She could tell he was looking at her as well. It was odd. They both had eye contact beyond what their brains could register. The struggles of the murderer in the water were visibly getting weaker. While she was looking at Zack, Kirsten elbows her on the side of the head. It is not as strong as if someone like, say, Cathy did, but it still sent her sprawling.

"Ugh…"

She rolls to the side slightly to dodge a shot. Damn, the gun is right there…

What the hell. Was he seriously going to die watching these two little girls fight? But his lungs and body were exhausted from all that thrashing as it was. Now he just flopped a little here and there, swallowing water, hungering for air. With the first gush he took, he felt his lungs explode. But there wasn't a bunch of blood and guts. He just felt heavy, and his body just moved less and less. But no matter what, his eyes kept watching. Even as those dark spots came and took up his vision. His thoughts were a complete frenzy as he blacked out.

_Dammit dammit dammit, just KILL me already! Forget about me! KILL HER!_

Rachel saw that body twitch a few more times before lying still in the tank. A few small streams of bubbles eventually dwindle to nothing. Her eyes widen.

Again, she left herself wide open for Kirsten.

The purple haired girl knocks her down with a smack of the side of her gun. Swiftly, before Rachel can recover, she slams a foot down on her little chest. The muzzle of her gun is pointed at Rachel's head now.

Rachel coughs slightly, "Ugh-!"

"I hope he didn't miss it…" For a moment, Kirsten glances towards the tank too, "Zack, you must still be watching…"

_JUST KILL HER ALREADY!_

For that small window afforded, Rachel brushes aside that foot. They were roughly the same size and weight. But her desperation made it count. She didn't even feel the pain in her leg. In a burst of movement, she scrambles for the gun. Kirsten shoots too late and grazes her ear, snipping off locks of her hair.

_The only one who can kill me..._

Her hands grab and feel that familiar piece of metal.

_That's why I can't..._

Time slows. Kirsten points at her. She turns around and points back with a flourish. Their eyes were locked. They both pull the trigger. It all happened at once.

_BANG_


End file.
